


A Merry Chase

by SixthNight



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII
Genre: F/M, Romance, Sexual Tension, The Original Merry Chase
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-23 04:22:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30049848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SixthNight/pseuds/SixthNight
Summary: Aerith leads Tseng on a different sort of merry chase.
Relationships: Aerith Gainsborough/Tseng
Comments: 5
Kudos: 16





	A Merry Chase

**Author's Note:**

> A follow-up to my holiday Tserith **Sweater Weather** (Chapter 2 of _It’s The Holiday Season_ ), though it can stand alone if you haven’t read that.

Aerith has been keeping her distance from _him_.

Ever since Solstice, she's felt unnerved by Tseng. The exchange of gifts, the moments she spent with him on the balcony, the lingering kiss he left on her cheek. All of it haunts her and leaves her with this ringing sensation that there is a line to be crossed.

She isn't sure if she wants to cross it or not. She's less sure whether _he_ wants to, seeing as he's been distant as well.

So they've been avoiding _each other_ , it seems.

Reno and Rude have been alternating days. Rude drops in quiet as an owl, sometimes stays for tea. He's always distracted by the birds on the walk back to her home. Reno drops in with far more noise. Rambling on about the latest office drama and roasting her for whatever has or hasn't happened with Tseng.

The first time Reno took a shift in January, they argued about that moogle sweater she'd knit for Tseng. Reno was thrilled about what he called the 'best prank of the year.' _Should've seen the look on his face, I've never seen him so thoroughly unsettled,_ he'd said. She knew it hadn't only been the sweater, but she wasn't sure if Reno was aware of that. When he made a suggestive comment about the two of them, she had her answer. It devolved from there.

As she considers, she realizes it's probably half the reason Tseng avoids her so. But on this lovely, bright February afternoon, she is very much aware of his presence in the shadows that hug the boundaries of their property. She's keenly aware that neither Rude nor Reno have been around and she surmises they've been tasked with other things. She imagines Tseng is here begrudgingly because he _has_ to be. Just like that, the paranoid thoughts begin to race around in her mind.

Aerith's hands become more aggressive with the soil, each movement as she tends the flowers exaggerated by her annoyance with his lurking. When she fills the watering can from the spigot on the porch, she overdoes it. Too stubborn to dump the excess, she lugs it back toward the flower bed and trips over an uneven patch on the path. Her knees sting as they skid against the dirt. She drops the can as she falls and most of the water spills out before she can tilt it upright.

Rolling back onto her seat, she makes a strangled noise. "Will you _stop_ lurking already?"

There is no reply but the silence feels heavier.

* * *

Tseng sees the moment the tether snaps. He feels it in his bones.

Aerith darts into the house, slamming the door behind her. Mercifully, Elmyra is out for the evening so there is no one else to notice. Tseng simply settles in, watching from his perch. When she appears in the window upstairs, she flips him off before she draws the curtains together with a heavy hand. He smirks.

That smirk bites him an hour later once the sun has disappeared.

Aerith reemerges beneath the light on the porch. She's wearing a flirty red dress he's never seen her in, the fabric clinging to her lithe form in all the right ways. Her bare legs spill from the short hem, impossibly long even though she's still wearing boots. Even from a distance, he sees the determination in her eyes. Sees the mischief written on her lips and the defiance within the set of her jaw.

When she blazes down the path like fire along a fuse, he fears he's pushed her too far. An explosion is imminent.

Still, he trails her from a distance, let's her wander without interfering or worrying much. It isn't until her destination becomes clear that unease fills his chest. Aerith strides right into Wall Market.

It doesn't take long for the catcalls to hurtle through the air. It's thick with the scent of greasy food, cheap cologne, and sweat, but the lewd words are unencumbered as they fly her way. She ignores them all, clearly intent on some destination only she knows.

A larger group of rowdy boys absorbs her. For a harrowing moment, he loses sight of her. Laughter erupts and she emerges on the other side, throwing a charming smile full of razor blades at them. He has no idea what she said to cause the ruckus, but he thinks the look on her face is both wicked and irresistible.

She whirls back to the street and takes off again. It's all he can do to stay on her heels without getting too close. He doesn't want to engage her, he's been avoiding that for weeks. And she's on to him, he realizes, intent on forcing his hand.

If he engages, she wins.

The thought is so distracting that he loses her for a moment. His eyes search the faces around him, search the street where she'd been just a second ago. A chatty drunk bounces off his shoulder, mumbling apologies and grinning like a fool. He takes in the man's ruddy cheeks, the beer gut peeking over his waistline, and scowls. That alcohol-addled grin fades.

Movement catches his eye a few paces away. Aerith's loose hair flutters as she ducks beneath an archway constructed with neon silk flowers. Tseng shoves past the drunk and takes in the posters littering the doorway. Animated characters and bright writing promising 'big wins.'

Of course, she's gone in there.

Closing his eyes, he sucks in a deep breath and channels that steely calm he knows will get him through the chaos waiting just inside. When he opens the door, laughter assaults his ears. Some of it is unhinged and clearly as saturated in alcohol as the man on the street. Shoving down an irked growl, he surveys the aisle ahead of him for any sign of her.

To his right, metal thuds in fast succession. A jolt of tension arcs through his limbs, the buzz of it only subsiding as he finds the source. A jackpot. The metallic spheres drop into the waiting tray and it sends the patron on his right to her feet, her victory song a knife to his eardrums. It gets him moving again, past the rows of other patrons planted in front of neon-hued machines.

They're all chasing the same goal as they pound relentlessly on buttons to the tune of computerized music and sound effects. Silver spheres race through the acrylic displays with whirs and thuds. The racket swirls into the most riotous melody he's ever heard.

Tseng fights the tide of sound that threatens to wash him away and catches sight of Aerith ahead, swept up in someone else's victory dance. Her lips part in a wide smile, he can almost hear the sound of her laughter above the din of the gaming parlor. Joy dances across her face like a beacon of light, it stops him and roots him to the floor.

Admiration for the sheer force of life she radiates fills his chest. Aerith has always possessed the gift to celebrate with those who are happy, to mourn with those who are not. The feeling ebbs as he wonders if the exorbitant cost of feeling so much takes its toll on her the same way it did for him. _Before_.

A second later, she slips away through the back.

Tseng can't help another deep breath, the roll of his eyes. He stalks past the last row of machines and angles for the door. As it shuts behind him, he relishes the drop in the noise level for an indulgent moment. Centered and back on task, he finds Aerith weaving through the street again. He jogs down the cluster of steps and trails her once more.

Aerith darts into the kitchen of a restaurant a moment later, disappearing beyond the strips of plastic guarding the back door. Forced to follow, a growl from the very depths of his weary mind draws a few pairs of eyes. He glares and ducks past the panels. Meat and vegetables sizzle on hot pans, the scent of spices wafting around in the close air. A few of the kitchen staff glance his way wearing frowns. Even so, they don't stop him as he maneuvers around them.

Aerith, on the other hand, receives a smile and some sort of round pastry that she graciously accepts from a chef. Through the other end and back onto the street, she pauses at a distance beneath a street lamp and waits.

His cheeks prickle from the contrast of chill night air as he sidesteps from the humid kitchen to lean against the building. He waits there, eyes on Aerith, and wills the challenge from his gaze. Aims for impassive as he takes the opportunity to give her a once over. He doesn't miss the faint bruises forming on her knees from the fall she took earlier.

When his eyes find her face again, she takes a bite of her pastry. The expression she wears seems almost obscene, like she's trying to make her enjoyment suggestive. Aerith's tongue dances across her lips and he curses his body for betraying him as desire races through his veins. She's trying to get beneath his skin now, attempting to force his hand in another way since parading through Wall Market hasn't won her any points. Tseng summons what he hopes is a dark, scathing look and then glances away.

She _could_ bolt while he's not looking, but he gambles that she won't. She'll prefer to slip away into the night triumphant.

Despite his efforts _not_ to think about her, his mind wanders in the momentary lull. She drifts through his dreams and waking moments like the ghost of freedom haunting him. She's what he could have if he chose a better life, a life not tied to the conglomerate he serves.

Once, he questioned the immorality of the company. Now, he's beneath the weight of a liver-spotted thumb that looks more like something that would be served up on a bun around this neighborhood. The darkness is back in his eyes for a flash, he feels it in the weight of his brow.

There is no other choice left for him, he is committed to this path.

The hair on his neck shifts a moment too late, his senses dulled within his rumination. A soft touch slides across his upper lip and a rich, spicy scent sweeps over his senses. Brunette hair floats by, freezing him in place. Aerith lifts her finger away from his face as she passes and winks back at him before she skips down the street like nothing happened.

Grimacing at the faint sensation of something wet beneath his nose, he lifts gloved fingers and swipes at his skin. Something brown and buttery shines on his fingertips. She's left a trail of pastry filling on him like some mock moustache. As he wipes furiously at the filling, he can't help but think she's really pushing this ridiculous dance.

Tseng glances up just in time to spot a flash of red disappearing into a dark building with no windows. As he draws near, the bass escaping the walls reverberates in his chest and he knows exactly where she's gone. Sweat beads at his hairline, the knot in his stomach tied well enough to hold a chocobo back from fresh greens, but he has little choice.

The large bouncer standing outside sizes him up and pushes the door open with a nod. Beams of light blind him for a second, a hazy mist alive with the wild beat of music drifts out to greet him. He channels that inner-calm again, takes a deep breath, and ducks into the fray.

Bodies writhe all around him, the close air filled with the scent of salt and a blend of perfumes. The shifting lights bounce off of faces, walls, the bar, and, finally, a red dress. Tseng moves through the sea of limbs at a slow clip, unable to manage much more as dancers brush against him and step in his way. The threads of his worn patience begin to unravel.

The woman in the red dress slides up to him, her hands trailing his chest, and his heart kicks into overdrive. As lights flash across her hair, it illuminates like the golden morning sun. He shoves the stranger away, dismissing the glare she flings at him as she falls into another on the dance floor.

Tseng searches the faces all around him. Another shock of red in the crowd draws his eye, forces him to move against the tide once more. Flaring lights shine down on her and he knows this time, he has the right target. His instincts scream at him to move faster as a man circles her like a shark.

The room goes dark.

Panic grips his mind, sends him crashing into bodies as he follows the path to her by memory. He should have put a stop to this sooner, shouldn't have let his duty fall to the side in favor of a dangerous game. When the lights return, flashing to the beat of a new song, he freezes again. The shark has swept Aerith into an ancient-looking dance.

It occurs to him that perhaps she is the one in control as she gives herself over to the song.

The movement of her hips captivates him and when her eyes meet his across the space, logic and duty ebb from his mind. Her dance partner is oblivious to the way she's ignoring him, even as his hand trawls the curve of her right hip. Jealousy floods his hazy thoughts, though he swats it away. It doesn't matter anyway, she weaponizes her hip and shoves it into the man who tips and falls into a group of women who were dancing. They shove him further away.

Tseng takes a step, daring himself to venture toward Aerith. He'll have to stay closer in here anyway to avoid losing her again, he convinces himself. She watches him, teeth on her bottom lip, daring him to take another step. But when he does, she's swept up into another dance.

Aerith shimmies her shoulders, her sunshine grin at odds with the seediness of the nightclub. Even in the dim light, even with someone moving around her, she keeps her eyes on Tseng. Something in them shifts. Each sway, every motion like a call to him, luring him in. And his body has simply stopped fighting it, much to his chagrin.

The lights flash in quick succession, growing in intensity until they go black and plunge the room into darkness again. This time, he doesn't move. He tries to use the momentary blindness to his advantage, willing his mind to stop crossing lines. One more line and the rest of him might just go along with it.

A new beat brings back the strobes, slower this time, but it's as if the sound is traveling through a tunnel. Aerith circles him, her hand ghosts between his shoulder blades and around to his chest. She pauses before him, so close he could easily cross that last line. Her fingers tap to the beat, the tip of one brushing the bare skin above his collar. Desire is a living thing crawling through him.

The line beckons, tempting him to close the distance between them and cross it already. He's running out of reasons not to, especially when she invades more of his space. He is utterly still while she sways to the beat, a statue even as she is that force of life that threatens to pull him out of his waking slumber. The movement of his chest beneath her hand turns uneven, the air feeling thinner by the second.

The music enters a bridge. The calm before the storm, he realizes. The lights dim, leaving the room dark again as the tones blend in a gentle lull. He can't see her face, but he senses Aerith hasn't made a move. Tension is thick in the air, his hands curled to fists at his sides. Heat rushes over his lips when she brushes her mouth against his.

The music fades, the lights go out, but it only seems to make her bolder. He feels her chest against his, the wild beat of her heart palpable between them. The hand at his collar winds behind his neck, her fingers gripping hard as she pulls him in. Her kiss is not the sweet thing he might've imagined at one point, but a frenzied thing full of a month's worth of repressed longing. It ignites just as the lights burst to life around them.

That imminent explosion, he thinks.

The music builds to complete chaos, his eyes shut against the lights as they match the beat once more. Her tongue glides over his and she tastes of cinnamon, sugar with a hint of salt from the buttery filling of the pastry. A soft vibration whispers over his mouth and he just knows she's moaned even if he can't hear it. The last of his defenses crumble, his hands uncurling to tangle in her hair and grip the curve of her hip.

The explosion fills all the spaces of his mind, every bit of his body, as she wraps herself around him. The line is blown to bits when she closes the last bit of space between their hips, brushing against the growing hardness behind his fly.

The music grows disorderly and someone slams into him, breaking the spell. His eyes whip open and he puts precious space between him and Aerith. It takes a beat for reality to fill the gaps in his lust-fueled thoughts and the other patrons come into focus. Several are jumping up and down, reaching through the air.

Aerith looks up as glitter begins to rain from the ceiling, the crowd around them rowdier by the second. When she finds his eyes, light dances across the glitter on her cheeks. And despite it all, Tseng feels his lips curve into a smile. Her thumb traces the shape of it and there is wonder in her eyes.

Awareness of how little he smiles sets the line of his mouth straight again. It seems to shatter whatever fragile connection lies between them. Aerith dances away out of reach, leaving him standing in the midst of pandemonium with a choice. Keep still and return to the other, safer side of the line? Or let her pull him into another dance of wills?

Though, technically, she's just lost this round. Tseng smirks as he dives through the crowd.


End file.
